Songs of Monsoon

This muddy water

The illegitimate child of rain

It flows in shameless rivulets

Twisty, tricky filaments

And finally a swirling pool of filth

Blinks at me.

The Dance of the Moon

Dance, O moon, in thy eerie light
Thou art the slayer and
The cadaver, languid and stout.
Trapped in celestial shadows,
Dance thy ritual dance!

Thou art a mere malnourished balloon
Sliding into a sickle, like a chameleon
Dancing itself to death
O virile goddess of the dark!
Dance thy ritual dance.

Regard thy silver blood
Droppings suspended in a vacuum
Mother to imperfection, in feminine frailty
O crooked pillow of the dark!
Dance thy ritual dance.


O double dealing moon
Promising salvation and immortal perdition
Like thy earthly brothers
O Sisyphus of the heavens
Dance thy ritual dance!

Huis Clos

I
Now the thunder strikes, now the lightning
And clouds waltz untamed
His quiet from drifts gaudily
His life still unclaimed.

His hair hangs limply in the stale air
His pupils, in constant motion
His fingers like stabbing knives
He smells of death and poison.

Now on a filthy mat he lies
His breath comes out in a groan
The last days dripping down
Death is not unknown.

Those shadows on the wall
Reeking of ancient scorn
Strange memories hang on nails
Plastic and paper he mourns.

Monstrous mirrors shine on him
Vulgar secrets lurk from behind
His wrinkled spirit flickers ahead
He lingers alone to the end.



II
The fantasies of the soul
Are lost in the mists of time
She looks back,
Searching beauty
Seeing only turmoil
A heart shattered, a mind wild
Eyes, made mild
Strangled memories haunt her now.

Eyes fading, life
Vanishing. Furrowed memories
Sleeping
Inside the ugly mouth.
The past laughs, mockingly
The future beckons, menacingly
The present rests, maliciously
There is no escape, cackle the dead.

Her egg shell heart, with its crack
Her soul, gaunt and hollow
The deep shadows beneath her eyes
Hands frail, quivering
Search for the cruel perpetrator
“Wake up!” they shriek to the world
Mere bitterness echoes
A grotesque silence.

I

I am Medusa, Succubus and Lucifer-
Trapped in his little hell.
I seduce-
Horror and lust are my two hands.
I hang in the air with my loneliness and fury
And laugh at you all.

I freeze fecundity
My reign is ruthless
My wails pierce your dreams
And clog obscure love
My sobs and my inhuman squeals-
My violence
Are enough.

I am the mother of misery
I sing softly
As my malicious soft fur
Strokes your delicate shriveled skin.
I nurse gloom
Lovingly
I snigger at death.

A Beautiful Bonfire

You cruel animals in your mirth,
Your drunken laughter and giggles,
You brazen mortals of this earth
That dance around in ruthless joy
And molest my soul part by part
Bit by bit, and light
A beautiful bonfire with it.
And join your hands and
Laugh and sing and
Watch my sun go down
And drink my spirit and roast my bones
And imagine that fools are wise.
My mind murdered by fleshy sticks
Thorns and stones and pebbles
I’m drowned in your sick giggles.
As you level my intestines to your brains
And squabble over my remains.
But the crafty grapple only for one
And their eyes search and scour
Over vomit, spit and blood and wood
For the prized- now a moon, a star
But never, they found
That which they yearned
That was alas, my heart!

Beautiful As My Corpse

Come back, come back,
You petty creatures,
Come back, come back,
And watch me die.

As the leash tightens,
And the water shades crimson,
As my lungs choke,
And my eyes close.

The blistering fingers point at me
It wasn’t me, never me
Always you, always you
It was always you.

A bead of perspiration falls off my brow,
And the tears, always the tears
Which you never saw
Like darkened silver.

And my parched my mouth
My cracking lips
Which you never kissed,
You never kissed.

The sun casts a black shadow
On my weeping carcass.
Black as my life
As you heart.

And the rose continues to scent my body
Limp and pale, as it were,
White as the sheets, cold, sobbing
And I decay and rot, while

You lust after whores
And smell cheap perfumes
Of brainless mannequins
Beautiful as my corpse.

Heavenwards

Cold on her hard cot she lies
Her wistful eye tells of nothingness
Of heights that go beyond our reach
Of hazy, misty, shattered souls
Those that contain her now
As she fights hard to be
What she once was
Oh yes, she remembers…
She remembers, but she cannot see
She remembers, but she cannot be
A part of her heavenwards and a part
On mortal earth, that mourns her now
Those leaves she stroked await her caress
And yet she lies unyielding.
Her gaze escapes into the sinister darkness
Into the starry night, she is lost forever
But her whitish lips seem to say,
“Take care of me, take care of me…”